Sensory Perception
by Darke-Angyl
Summary: Everything he knew to be true, he's being told is a lie. Who is he supposed to believe? What is the real truth? Daryl/OC


The sun was brutal as it beat down from overhead. Daryl shifted his crossbow on his shoulder and paused to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He knelt down to examine the animal prints he had been following, trying to determine exactly what kind of animal it was. Finally deciding that it was a raccoon, he smiled slightly. It would be a change of taste for everyone. If he could find a snake or two to go along with it, they would all eat pretty well that night. A sudden noise caught his attention, and he forgot about the tracks as he made his way toward it to investigate.

A young woman was laying at the bottom of a tree. It appeared that she had been attempting to climb it and had fallen. He approached her slowly, keeping his finger on the trigger of his crossbow in case she had been bitten or something. "Can ya hear me?" he asked.

The young woman groaned, slowly opening her eyes. As soon as she saw Daryl, her eyes widened with fright and she started scooting away from him as fast as she could.

"Hold on!" Daryl stated, frustrated at the sudden rush of unfamiliar feelings he felt running through him. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Are you injured? Bit? Scratched?"

She shook her head, still not speaking. Her lips were cracked and bleeding from lack of water. She started shaking as he put the crossbow back on his shoulder and moved closer to her, trying to get away from him again.

Daryl sighed, pulling out a bottle of water from the small pack he was carrying with him. "Here..." He handed it to her, sighing again when he saw that she was shaking too much to be able to open it. He moved even closer to her and reached out, opening it for her. He stopped her from guzzling the water, making sure that he kept control of it so that she wouldn't choke. "You've got to sip it," he told her. "You'll choke if ya don't."

Her eyes softened slightly as she watched him, licking her lips to spread the water across them. She took a deep breath and finally managed to get a couple of words out. "Thank... you..." She drank a little more of the water before pushing it away, her stomach starting to cramp from having something in it. It had been so long since she'd had anything to eat or drink.

Daryl couldn't understand the confusing things he was feeling. He had never felt this way before, not even for Rick or any of the others that were in his group. He found himself not wanting to leave this girl alone. He wanted to look after her, to make sure that she was okay, to guarantee that nothing ever happened to her again. He growled, angry. He had just met the young woman. He shouldn't have any feelings for her one way or another. "What's your name?" he demanded, his voice harsher than he had intended it to be.

The young woman stared at him for several moments, as if trying to determine if he was going to hurt her or not. She finally took a deep breath and relaxed a little. "Alyssa," she whispered. "Thanks for the water." She pushed herself to her feet, moving away from him. A few feet away, she clutched her head and fell back down.

Daryl growled, going over to the spot Alyssa had fallen. The young woman was unconscious. Again. Cursing under his breath, he scooped her body into his arms and started carrying her back toward camp. It looked like everyone would have to deal with squirrel meat again that night.

ELSEWHERE

Daryl woke up, his eyes widening when he found himself staring up at a white ceiling. He quickly sat up and looked around. All four walls of the room were painted white, too, and the floor was a white tile. In fact, it seemed like every damn thing was white... the sheets on the bed, the blanket, the dresser, the bed itself, the desk. He frowned, not understanding how the hell he had gotten there. "Rick?" he called out. "Lori? Shane?" He thought of the girl he had found in the woods. "Alyssa?"

Someone knocked on the door, and it opened a few seconds later. "Oh, good," a woman wearing a pair of green scrub pants with scrub top that was green with dancing leprechauns on it commented as she walked into the room. "You're awake. How are you feeling today, Mr. Dixon?"

Daryl growled. No one had ever called him that before. "Where the hell am I?" he demanded. "Who are you?" He moved to push past her, intent on leaving and going to find out the others. "Where's Rick and everyone else?"

The woman sighed. "Oh, dear," she said, shaking her head. "I thought we had finally gotten a handle on your delusions, Mr. Dixon." She made a quick note on the clipboard she was carrying as she moved in front of him to prevent him from leaving. "You know the rules. The only time you're allowed out of your room is for meals and free time."

"What the hell are you talking about, lady?" Daryl growled, wanting to leave but not wanting to hurt a lady. It was one thing to kill a female walker. He didn't want to hurt a woman who wasn't already dead. "I've got to go! People are dyin'!" He glanced down and noticed that he was wearing a pair of white sweatpants, a white t-shirt, white socks, and white tennis shoes. "What the hell?! What have you done to me?!"

The woman sighed again. "Clay? Come in here, please. I may need your assistance."

A man standing well over six feet tall, who seemed to be almost as wide with the size of his muscles, appeared in the doorway and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't say a word, but his intention was clear. Daryl wouldn't be getting past him easily.

"My name is Dr. Amanda Carlisle," the woman began to explain in a soft voice. "We're in Roaming Waters, a mental facility in northern Georgia. You were admitted here almost a year ago, Mr. Dixon. You've been suffering from severe delusional tendencies that bring harm to yourself and others. You were deemed unfit to remain in society. We thought we had finally gotten control of this walker fantasy of yours, but it appears we've been mistaken. Clearly, you are still as delusional as when you were brought in."

Daryl stared from the woman to the man and back again, his mouth opening and closing several times as he tried to digest what she had said. It didn't make any sense. If he was here, where were the others? What had happened to them? Where had all of the walkers gone? "What the hell is going on?" he demanded, though his voice lacked quite the conviction it had had before.

Dr. Carlisle slowly approached Daryl and helped him back over to the bed. "I'm sorry that you're feeling so confused, Mr. Dixon. Get some rest while I figure out the best thing for us to do to help you. I promise we'll get things figured out together."

Daryl picked up the pillow from the bed and threw it against the closed door after the other two people left him alone, suddenly remembering the young woman he had found in the woods. She had seemed so frightened. "Alyssa," he whispered. "What happened to you? I swear I'll find you and protect you."


End file.
